away the long railway journey by reading
metaphysical disquisitions on "Parsifal' and the Ideal Woman,"
"'Parsifal' and the Thing-in-Itself," "The Swan in 'Parsifal' and its
Relation to the Higher Vegetarianism." It knows the name of every
leit-motif, and can nearly pronounce the German for it; it can refer
to the Essay on Beethoven apropos of Kundry's scream (or yawn) in the
second act; it can chat learnedly of Klingsor, in pathetic ignorance
of his real offence, and explain why Amfortas has his wound on the
right side, although the libretto distinctly states it to be situated
on the left. It is a fact that this year a lady was heard to ask why
Parsifal quarrelled with his wife in the second act. (I might mention
that an admirer of "Parsifal" asked me who the dark man was in the
first act of "The Valkyrie," and whether Sieglinde or Bruennhilde was
burnt in the last.) The which is eminently amusing, and conjures up
before one a vision of Richard, not wailing, like the youth in
Shelley's "Prometheus Unbound," for the faith he kindled, but gazing
patiently, rather wearily, with a kindly ironical smile, on the world
he conquered, on the world that adores him _because_ it fails to
understand him.

Happily, it is not my business to reform the world; and writing in
October, when so many of the idealists who felt with Parsifal in his
remorse about the duck-shooting episode are applying the lesson by
wantonly slaughtering every harmless creature they can hit, it would
be superfluous to point out in any detail how very wrong and absurd is
the world's estimate of the Bayreuth performance. In fact, were it my
object to assist in the destruction of Bayreuth, no better plan could
be found than that of approving cordially of everything Bayreuth does.
For it is fast driving away all sincere lovers of Wagner; it lives now
on fashionable ladies, betting men, and bishops: when the fashion
changes and these depart, the Bayreuth festivals will come to an end.
Bayreuth is only an affectation; not one pilgrim in a hundred
understands the "Ring" or "Parsifal"; not one in a thousand is really
impressed by anything deeper than the mere novelty of the business.
Visitors go and are moved by the shooting of the duck (the libretto
calls it a swan, but the management chooses to use a duck); they talk
of Wagner's love of animals and of how they love animals themselves;
they go straight from Bayreuth to Scotland and show their love in true
sportsman